


Home

by drdill



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: Angst, Comfort, Cracker is v sad boi, Eventual Smut, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-19
Updated: 2019-02-18
Packaged: 2019-08-26 01:19:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 20,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16672036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drdill/pseuds/drdill
Summary: After a recent breakup, Max tries to slow everything down and hide his emotions. However, a night spent with Gio throws him in a tailspin he never expected.





	1. Home

I replayed the conversation in my head for over a week:  
“I just don’t know if I can do this with how much our lives are about to change.”  
“You said that we’d be able to survive anything. What made you change your mind?”  
“We’re never going to see each other! We’ll be in different cities every day! How do you expect me to be okay with that?”  
“Oh, I don’t know Dane, maybe because I thought when you said you loved me you meant it.”  
“Max, I do love you, but I mentally cannot fathom how much we’re going to be apart for the next 6 months. I just didn’t realize what I was getting into.”

The last 8 words clung to my throat like a white-knuckled hand. What was he talking about, the relationship or me? My thoughts have never been on my side and he knew that, at least I thought he did. He knew I had a hard time explaining how I felt. My brain wouldn’t let me; my brain still won’t let me forget as I sit in the passenger of my Uber making my way across the Brooklyn bridge. I’m not pulled out of my head until the driver comes to a stop outside the apartment complex.

This is the first time I’ve left my apartment besides a couple shows, but even then I didn’t want to show what was going on.

I thank the driver, close the door, and stare up at the tall building. The early March wind stings my face and brings tears to my eyes as I run up the stairs to get buzzed in.

“Hey, stranger.”

The last time I was here was over a year ago, and the memories of broken friendships and breakdowns in this elevator aren’t helping my mood. It jumps when I reach the floor, slowly creaking open as I walk straight to the third door on the right. I knock three times.

He opens the door, leaning against the frame and looking effortless but so much more put together than me. 

Giovanni.

He backs away to let me into the apartment as I shut the door behind me. It’s cleaner than I imagined.

I would say this is what I was expecting to be doing with my night, but I’d be lying to you. If he didn’t text me, I’d be lying on the couch with wine and pretzels watching Golden Girls on my day off.

"Are you doing okay?"  
I’ve been better.  
"Monet told me she’s worried about you."  
She’s always worried about me.  
"I think you need to get out of the house. It’ll help you get your mind off it."  
I’ve been working.  
"You know what I mean. Come over later."  
...  
"If you want."

He pulls me into a hug. I can smell the cologne on his black hoodie.

“I didn’t know you owned a vacuum,” I smirk as we sway back and forth before pulling away.  
“I always try to look like I have my shit together for company,” he says smiling, “mostly just for my mom.”  
Company. Before I was just a friend that could walk in whenever I wanted, clothes and empty Red Bull cans all over the floor- now I’m distant enough that he has to try to impress me again. It’s weird, but I let it slip from my mind.  
“I’m flattered to be associated with Gina any day of the week,” I laugh as I take my jacket off and hang it over the couch.  
“Do you want anything to drink?” He asks me.  
“I’ll just have a water.”  
“Okay, you can go sit on my bed. I want you to be comfy while you vent,” he says, walking into the kitchen.

—-

He plops on the bed next to me, my head resting on the wall when he hands me my drink. I take a sip and set it on the nightstand. There’s a comfortable silence when he finally asks me, “have you talked to Dane at all?”  
“Not since the night he left,” I reply. I twiddled my thumbs, avoiding eye contact. He just nods.  
“I did,” he tells me, “but he didn’t want to talk about it much. I think he’s trying to get over it.”  
“Wish I could say the same,” I just laugh. My stomach twists at the idea of him just ignoring the last 5 months we shared. “I don’t understand how someone can claim to love you then force their way out of your life.”  
I never saw the day coming. Dane was my rock during the silent months, and keeping two secrets from the public eye was even more the fun. I don’t want to say I thought he was the one; I’ve been broken too many times for that bullshit, but something about him felt much more secure. Then out of nowhere he decides it’s too much after one secret becomes known. I’m back to square one: the replaceable idiot. Giovanni places his hand on my thigh, his thumb making small circles on the outside.

“Give him some time, Max. He clearly doesn’t realize how special you two were. Once he gets his head out of his ass I’m sure he’ll want you back. How couldn’t he?” I thank him as he gives me a soft smile, but his eyes say otherwise. I see the physical pain that brought him to say that, those big brown eyes never looked so hurt. Where’d that come from?

“I just don’t know what to do at this point,” I shake my head, reliving the memories of the night Dane broke it off to avoid thinking about Giovanni’s warm touch. He just nods again, but now he’s avoiding eye contact.

From the beginning of the night he’s been acting strange- tactile, yet hesitant. I begin to think, then it fades. There’s no way that he’s jealous. Why would he be? This young 21-year old that could have anyone at his fingertips should not be looking at me like a lost puppy. More importantly, what am I doing? I’m the one sulking over my ex, ready to take him back at the snap of a finger, yet here I am, body fluttering at the movement of his fingertips. 

Why am I okay with it?

I place my hand over his on my thigh, intertwining the fingers to test the waters. He looks down and swallows, focusing on the contact. It seems as though I was correct.

He breaks his stare. “I’m going to grab something else to drink. Do you want a snack or anything?” he asks me, getting ready to slide off the bed. I can’t let him escape this. “Gio can I ask you something?” He turns around, finally returning eye contact.  
“Yeah what is it?”  
“The night we performed at Straight Acting,” I see him tense, “do you remember what you told me?” I ask him. He’s quiet for a while then lets out a sigh.  
“I was obliterated that night,” he tells me, I start having doubts again, “but I told you I was after you since filming ended.” He shrugs at me, admitting defeat. I bite my cheek as it all begins to click: ignoring texts, canceling plans, he was avoiding his own agony. 

This can go either of two ways: let him down gently or accept the consequences of egging him on. My brain tells me to go with the former, but I’m feeling cocky and the latter is too fun to skip.

“Interesting,” I smirk, sitting up and off the bed, reaching for his hand as he obliges and stands over me. “Is that why you asked me to come over tonight?”  
“No I-“  
“It’s okay if it is,” I tell him. “How do you feel now?” My hand traces up his sleeve to the base of his neck, playing with his hair. I wasn’t expecting this to happen.

“Max,” he breathes, clenching his jaw as his arm reaches around my waist.  
“What do you want from me, Giovanni?” I ask him, cupping his cheek in my hand. He looks at me as if I’m the only thing in his world, but that escapes as his eyes go dark- lust taking over his body with his focus on my lips.

“Everything.”

It all happens so quickly. I’m attacked by his lips on mine, to which I happily oblige. The warmth of his mouth sends shivers down my body, his own pleasure and relief rattling my bones as our tongues dance. I grab his face with both hands as he wraps both arms around to pull me closer, moaning against my lips. He begins to feel the seam of my t-shirt and lift it off my torso until it’s at my chest and I raise my arms to have it flung off my body. I begin to do the same with his hoodie, palming is growing hardness. I begin to forget everything except his touch.

Gio pushes me back on the bed, climbing on top of me and kissing my jawline to my chest as he fumbles with my zipper. We both laugh as he struggles then slides my jeans and underwear off simultaneously. He’s still the dork I met 2 years ago. I tug at his sweatpants. The name Dane becomes foreign to my knowledge with his mouth on my neck.

We lay there chest to chest, exploring each other’s bodies and absorbing the electric touch on our skin. This feels more than lustful, I am worshiped by him; each caress, each feather-like kiss separates me from reality as we grind against each other in soft harmony. Time began to slow down in the busiest city in the world.

I forget why I came here, but I know why I’m not going home.


	2. Only

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the morning after, and Max is at a battle with his thoughts.

My eyes open to white light seeping through the blinds. I start to sit myself up when I feel an arm across my chest and warm breath behind my right ear. Turning my head, I see half a face with no eyebrows and dainty eyelashes, a faint amount of stubble above his wide-open mouth. 

_How could I forget,_ I think to myself, _I slept with pretty boy last night_. More importantly, I found his bad angle.

I slowly shimmy off of the bed and head to the bathroom. Memories of last night play in my head as I splash cold water on my face: the soft embraces, the whispers of longing touch, the cries of pure ecstasy, it was all so right. There was just one problem.

_It felt so wrong._

Why did I let last night happen? Yes, it was wonderful, and I’m pretty sure the entire apartment building now knows my name, but having sloppy seconds with Gio did not sit right. Maybe it’s because I’ll have to face him and Dane in the same room for press in a couple weeks, maybe it’s because of the age gap, maybe it’s because I hate myself, I’m not sure. It just seems like he could do better. _But he admitted to having feelings for you_ , I tell myself, my thoughts battling for dominance in my fucked-up mind. I’m still splashing water on my face for what feels like hours, trying to break this trance. Maybe I should shower.

I turn the water on, letting the warm beads run through my hand before walking to the mirror to re-observe the marks on my neck (that will need covering before Monet starts asking questions tonight). They are purple and tender, spanning the back of my ear to the top of the collarbone. Either he wanted me dead or he was as eager for touch as I was. I’m suddenly greeted with arms wrapped around my waist and Gio’s head popping up from behind, nibbling at my shoulder. It was the latter.

“Need a towel?” he asks me with a cheeky grin on his face. His body is warm against my skin.  
“Good morning to you too,” I laugh, “sorry I was making myself comfortable.”  
“Well, you’re currently wasting my water bill as we stand here. Mind if I join?” He gives me the same puppy dog eyes from the night before.  
_I should mind. I really should mind._ Instead, I give him a smirk.  
“Lead the way, pretty boy.”

He grabs my hand and walks toward the shower, stepping into the bathtub. I follow behind and am attacked, again, with his mouth at my throat. A low moan escapes my breath; at least he has the courtesy to bruise the other side this morning. I bring a finger to his chin and lift his head to press our lips together softly as my other hand travels down his back to grab his ass, kneading the soft flesh. There’s something angelic about his silhouette: the water droplets on his arms reflecting off the light above our heads, steam coming off his back, a shadow over his petite face as he stares with those greedy brown eyes and swollen pursed lips. Any guilt I had twenty minutes ago is washed away with his hand wrapped around my forming erection, hitching my breath.

Morning sex was not how I imagined my day starting, but the last 12 hours have been full of surprises.

—-

“Do you have anything in this apartment besides Red Bull and alcohol?” I ask rummaging through his cabinets as Gio rests against the counter with his arms crossed. We’re both fully changed and acting like his dick wasn’t in my mouth a half an hour ago.  
“I’ve barely been home since the cast was announced. I don’t remember the last time I ate something I made myself,” he admits. How does this man live?  
“Okay fine, for being such a great therapist for me last night and this morning, why don’t I treat you to brunch?” I suggest.  
“Wow, how chivalrous of you,” he smirks as I grab my phone and wallet.

We head to a cafe down the street. Gio offers me one of his hoodies so my neck is less noticeable from the public. It does very little in hiding anything, but it’s soft and smells like him so I keep it on. I order our coffees and omelets while he finds a table by the window.

“This is one of my favorite places to go,” he tells me, looking out at passersby. “I like to watch everyone walk past on Sundays.”  
“Why Sundays?” I ask.  
“This street is across from a bar, a block away from a church, and right by the subway station,” he explains, “you see every kind of person: aggressively hungover dudes, girls walking heels-in-hand from one night stands, older couples holding hands walking to mass, young business people desperate for overtime so they can pay rent, it’s always a different story.” He sips his coffee, still looking out the window. I smile at him.

The best way I can describe Giovanni is passionate: passionate about drag, about fashion, about his fans, essentially anything on his mind at that moment, he feels a certain way about it. People have always been on his case about his speaking, that he can never form a sentence, but I know the compassion is there. As someone that learned to be cynical about life since I could walk, I admire him for that.

“You truly love this city, don’t you?” I ask him.  
“This city has been my dream since I was eight. I think you have to love it to live in it,” he explains to me, glued to the window.  
I wouldn’t say New York was my _dream_ per se, rather than an escape of my terrible life in Washington, but I do love it here. No other city has the perfect balance of glamor and garbage, much like drag. The most beautiful parts aren’t on Broadway or Fifth Avenue, but at the bodegas at three a.m., an empty subway train after a show, the streets during a snowfall. It’s when New York is at its slowest that I love this dumpster city so much.  
“I’m going to miss this place when we start traveling,” I say to him.  
“I think I’ll miss the people more.” He finally looks at me, beaming.

Our sappy moment was ruined by the nice barista lady bringing our food over. I thank her before we eat in almost total silence. It wasn’t awkward, the white noise kept me company and it only lasted a few minutes since neither of us has self-control when it comes to eating.

The entire time, I can’t stop staring at him. He catches me once, gives a quick grin, then returns to being oblivious. I want so badly to refocus but I can’t. Those chocolate eyes will be my demise. _What’s getting into me?_

“Can we talk about something?” I say completely out-of-the-blue before downing the rest of my coffee. I guess my subconscious is making decisions now.  
“Depends, is it about something else I’ve said drunk?” he replies with a smile.  
“Unfortunately, no,” I tell him, ”it’s about last night.” He looks confused, as am I for where I’m going with this.  
“I don’t want you to think that I’m just using you because I’m still trying to get over Dane, because you actually helped me forget about it last night and I had a great time with you,” his face perks up.  
“However,” there it goes his face, “I’m not sure if I can just jump back into something right now. Especially not when the three of us will be around each other constantly.” My mind is against me. His face remains neutral as he nods, rimming his coffee cup with his finger. I hear him clear his throat.

“I mean,” he begins, “we don't have to be anything... _official._ ” He’s avoiding eye contact again.  
Well then.  
“Explain,” I say as if I’m not fully aware he just wants to fuck.  
“Like...just feed off each other until the show airs? Just for the next...few weeks?” He’s more hesitant explaining his plan.

I start to think this through in my head: _we could just hook up whenever we wanted and no one would know? Am I actually about to be Gio’s friend with benefits?_ It feels juvenile and still very weird _(and oh, so wrong)_ , but maybe...this could be fun? After all, we already know we work well with each other, and it’s only for a little while before we’ll be too busy to think much of it.

“Okay, I’ll go _unofficial_ with you,” I tell him, “but I have some requests.”  
“Anything,” he says a little too quickly. Someone’s eager.  
“One, you can’t tell anyone, because I’m not even telling Katelyn.” Having other people’s opinions on this is really something I don’t need.  
“Got it.”  
“Also, keep the bruising at the stomach and lower, I can’t hide these from everyone forever,” I laugh circling the left side of my neck, he just blushes.  
“I can do that,” he tells me, smiling.

When we leave the coffee shop I decide to take the subway home since we’re closer to the stop. We say our goodbyes, then with a frantic hesitance, he leans in and kisses me on the cheek, I can feel his grin as he does it. He waves as he walks the other way and I am left alone with my thoughts and his hoodie at the corner. I walk underground, catch the train, and travel back to Harlem in the mid-afternoon.

The ride is nice. It isn’t too busy or crowded, but something’s unsettling. It’s not the people or anything physical from what I ate, but something emotional. I feel only half-full. It’s a yearning for something or _someone_. The intertwining of fingers, the dorky grin after a bad joke, the face of a young man with no eyebrows and dainty eyelashes that sleeps with his mouth open. I don’t think it’s coming from the scent on my body, I just miss him. _It’s been less than an hour and I miss him._

I see a text from Gio:  
_Keep the hoodie. It looks better on you anyway :)_

Then another:  
_By the way, I could get used to being called pretty boy_

Honestly, he's quite the charmer, and I can’t stop smiling. _Stop smiling. This won’t work in your favor._ I’m still smiling as I text him back:  
“First off, I doubt it. Second, I’ll keep that in mind. See you soon :)”

I almost miss my stop as I’m pulled out of my thoughts with the doors opening. Looking like an idiot running through the stop, I sprint upstairs, down a few blocks to my apartment, up the elevator of my building, unlock my door, close it and slide down with a loud thud- a metaphor for my life in this very moment.

I’ve spent 15 hours with this man that I barely spoke to eight months ago, and now he’s the only thing occupying my mind.

I’m falling.  
_And I’m falling hard._


	3. Waiting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Max is getting touch hungry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first attempt at some form of actual smut don't judge me. I'd be lying if I said I liked this chapter as much as the other two, but I tried to tie a lot of stuff together and now it's long and I just can't stand to look at it anymore lol. Please give me some feedback x  
> p.s. I was switching pronouns when they were in/out of drag, it might be confusing and i'm sorry  
> p.p.s. if you want me to post the songs i've been using as chapter titles lmk  
> edit: it was requested so right now the song list is:  
> Home- Daughter  
> Only- RY X  
> Waiting- Alice Boman

_Hey are you free?_  
I’ll be over in 30

This was the majority of our texting dialogue the last few weeks, typically on Mondays and Thursdays. Either I would go to his place or he would come here, we’d mess around for like an hour, spend the night, then leave the next morning. Sometimes we’d get coffee. And it was...fine.

The sex wasn’t bad, just the dynamic. I knew he probably still wanted something to come out of this, and here I was pretending like I didn’t care. But I cared so much, maybe too much. I just couldn’t face getting hurt again. There were mornings we would wake up in each other’s arms, a wonderful picture of what could be, but I’d slip out of his arms before he noticed.

I wanted more.  
I _needed_ more.  
_He deserved more._

——

It’s been about 2 months since we’ve seen each other. The last time was the night of the premiere.

I sat across from her the entire night, and she looked stunning making my life a living hell. From the eyebrow scene to the end of untucked, I was fuming. It was as if she knew exactly where to step on my neck with her heel and twist. She stopped making eye contact the second her mouth opened on the screen. I wanted to stay mad, but I couldn’t. There’s no way. As Marti asks me if I had a reply to her and The Vixen, I just look at her with those same puppy dog eyes and say something that I never wanted to say out loud:  
“I love you.”  
I hear the crowd erupt into a simultaneous “awe” while others started to chant “kiss kiss kiss!” _Oh shut up._  
She smiled and replied, “thanks, I love you too.” We hugged and life was sunshine and rainbows.

Until I got home that night.

I de-drag, shower, and get ready for bed when he texts me:  
_Can I come over?_

I curse myself as I buzz him in. He opens the door and is hysterical, clinging to me puffy-eyed as he apologizes for what he said. I don’t say much, mostly because I can’t figure out how to react anymore. I’m exhausted with my own feelings and I’m ready to explode. Instead, I grab underneath his thighs, lift him off the ground and slam him into the wall, kissing him ferociously. Consider it an acceptance to his apology and a release of my anger. He gladly kisses me back as I carry him to my bedroom.

There were bruises, bite marks, tears, the most passionate experience I’ve ever been in. We’re both covered in sweat, so shocked at what happened neither of us speak for several minutes until he rolls to his side and looks at me.

“So this is it?” he asks, making circles on my chest with his index finger.  
Please tell him how you feel. Please.  
I don’t say anything, I just reach down and kiss his forehead, running my fingers through his hair.  
“I’m sorry,” I finally manage to croak out. “Not like this. Not when we can’t see each other.” I sound like such a hypocrite, doing the same thing Dane did to me, and I hate myself for it.  
He nods, then lays his head on my chest.  
“I’ll miss you,” he tells me.  
“I’ll miss you too.”

 

When I woke up he was gone. The emptiness was back.

——

It’s the week of DragCon and we haven’t spoken since. Neither of us have tried to text or call, and maybe that’s better. We’ve both been busy in a different city every night, meeting fans and doing numbers we’re tired of performing. You’d think it would be enough of a distraction, but it wasn’t. I craved him. I needed him.

I leave my hotel room to get ice when I’m stopped in my tracks by a voice that was finally out of my head.  
“Hey, Max.”  
I turn around and face the man leaning against the wall that brought me so much pain ten weeks ago. It’s the first time we’ve been alone since. He’s smiling at me.

  
“Hi, Dane.”  


He’s wearing jeans, a tank top with a light jacket, and a backward hat, probably on his way to watch tonight’s episode.  
“I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever,” he smiles as he goes in for a hug, which I accept without hesitance. I think between another complicated “relationship” (whatever it was), and working nonstop I began to understand why he wanted things to end.  
“How’ve you been?” I ask him as we pull away.  
“I’ve been good, how about you?”  
“Exhausted,” I tell him with a laugh, which isn’t a lie. He smiles.  
“I can relate,” he says, “life’s been so crazy since the show started airing.”  


We’re silent for a little bit. The air is thick with retracted feelings- it’s still weird.  
“Are you going to watch your win?” I nag him, nudging his shoulder as he laughs.  
“Yeah, I think Mayhem is having a watch party. I’m just going to hide and hope she doesn’t embarrass me.”  
“Well you could always get drunk off rosé with Katelyn and I if you change your mind, but I won’t keep you.” I decide to go in for another hug.  
“I’ll keep that in mind. If not I’ll see your hungover ass bright and early tomorrow,” he says. He starts to walk away as I finally get my ice.  
That could’ve been less awkward, but I stop thinking about it. At least we’re speaking again.

\----

Dane and I visited each other three times, each time felt more genuine than the last. We talked about finding the bar inside the convention center, Asia ready to drag Eureka through the dirt, crazy fans; I don’t remember the last time we had a conversation like this. Will we ever be back to how we were right after filming? No, but this was nice too.

I still only had one thing on my mind the last four days, and it is the only person I haven’t seen this weekend.

_Giovanni.,_

Luckily, they’ve been spending a lot of time together.

“Have you seen Aqua at all?” I ask Kameron.  
“Yeah, she’s been super quiet. I don’t know what’s gotten into her. Even Jordan said she hasn’t told him what’s wrong.” She looks concerned, then very confused as my eyes got wide.

_He’s still thinking about it._

We say our goodbyes and I head back to my booth for a few hours. After finally cleaning up, I decide we should stop avoiding each other. I walk to his booth and see it’s completely swept clean. He was already gone.

\----

We’re performing together tonight. My stomach is in knots on the way there.  
“Are you alright?” Katelyn asks me.  
_No, I’m about to see the guy I hooked up with eight times and can’t even tell him I liked when we cuddled._  
“Yeah, just not feeling well,” I lie to her.  
We get to the venue, and luckily The Vixen spots me first.  
“Cracks!” she yells to me, running after me like a sappy rom-com. I laugh as I jump into her arms. I’m so happy she’s here.  
“Hey bitch,” I’m laughing as she swings me around when I spot out of the corner of my eye a skinny blonde in a sheer black sleeveless dress walk through the door. I tap Vixen to let me down while Aquaria and I both look at each other. She gives me a soft smile. I’ve missed that smile.

_“Hey, stranger.”_

I look at her like she’s everything I ever needed before I run into her arms and never want to let go.  
“I missed you, I missed you so much.”  
I feel her giggle into my neck. “I missed you too.”

The entire night is just spent screaming at each other’s performances, drinking too much, and messing around on Instagram stories. I’m having the time of my life. There’s just one thing:  
_I was ready to burst._

I’ve been with her all night and neither of us are acting like anything happened. She keeps looking at me, then looking away quickly, afraid of getting caught. All I want to do is kiss her, smudge the black lipstick on her mouth and tell her how beautiful she looks. I want to strip her down to Giovanni and stare at him naked, glistening in the moonlight peeking through the hotel windows. I would rather die than go another day without his touch.

We all catch an Uber back to the hotel in complete silence. I’m staring out the window when Vixen taps me on the shoulder, mouthing “are you okay?”

I shrug. She looks confused and makes eye contact with Aquaria, who looks at me, then back down at her phone. Something’s clicked.

We get out of the car, grab our luggage, and walk into the lobby. I fall behind to pick-up some jewelry I dropped outside when Vixen walks back to me.  
“Are you gonna tell me what’s wrong yet?”  
“It’s nothing,” I tell her.  
“It’s clearly something. Why were you and Aqua giving each other heart eyes all fucking night girl?”

_Fuck._

I sigh, standing back up to see a devilish grin on Vixen’s face.

“Do you have a little crush, Cracky?”  
“Drop it,” I snap.  
“How long?”  
“I’m not telling you anything unless you promise to keep your mouth shut. Katelyn doesn’t even know.”  
Her jaw drops.  
“My lips are sealed.” I haven’t seen someone this excited for news since Monet heard drama in the workroom.  
“We hooked up a few times before we started traveling,” she’s jumping up and down like a little girl as I try to contain her excitement, “BUT it was only temporary. Nothing’s happened since.”  
“Well, it’s pretty obvious you both want something to happen based on tonight. I can’t believe Katelyn and Jordan haven’t caught on yet, you were literally ready to pounce girl!” She’s laughing. I’m blushing and looking at the floor.  
“Hey, look at me,” she says, placing her arm around my shoulders as we walk back into the lobby, “don’t keep each other waiting forever.” She winks at me before catching up with her assistant and saying her goodbyes.

Walking down the hallway with Katelyn, I see Jordan and Aqua outside her room. 

“Goodnight ladies,” Jordan says, blowing a kiss at me, Aquaria giving a light smile.  
“Goodnight!” Katelyn says gleefully, I shake my head laughing and give Aqua one last grin before walking six doors down. I hug Katelyn goodnight and head to my room.

I’m defeated. At this point, I don’t even want to wake up in the morning for my flight because I’m so humiliated. This was my one chance and I blew it. I start to undress and head for the shower, washing away the makeup, sweat, and any dignity I had left. As I get out I stare at myself in the mirror, long and hard, replaying Vixen’s words in my head:  
_Don’t keep each other waiting forever._

I rest my arms on the counter trying to be my own life coach for once. Do I even try to bother him at this hour? He literally falls asleep standing up, there’s no way I should do this.  
_No._  
I’ve tortured myself for too long.  
I need him so badly.

I knock on the door, probably too aggressively at 2 a.m. but right now I don’t care. Gio answers the door in his robe and wet hair, extremely confused and concerned with how angry I look.

“Everything okay?” he asks me.  
I smash our lips together, feeling the warm water running down the back of his neck. Sheer relief takes over as I push him back into the room and shut the door with my foot. At first, he isn’t kissing back, then I feel him grasp my arms tighter, tugging on my lower lip and soothing it with his tongue. It’s frantic, longing, and oh, so right. He pushes me away slightly, catching his breath.

“I thought you didn’t wan-“  
“I know what I said,” interrupting him, my hands at his jawline reaching for another kiss, much more gentle. I trace his cheeks with my thumbs.  
“I haven’t thought about anyone but you for three months straight. I can barely sleep at night knowing you aren’t next to me. You’ve consumed me, and I’m tired of running.”

He looks like he’s about to cry.

“Max,” he says, reaching in to catch my lips again, wrapping me tightly in his arms. I feel like I’m floating and he’s holding me down. Suddenly, I feel his arms untangle from my back to the front of his body. He unties his robe and lets it fall to the floor.

“Please,” is all he can force out before grabbing the back of my neck and deepening our kiss.  
I start taking off my shirt as he undoes the tie on my sweatpants and pulls them down with my underwear. Hastily, I step out of them and lead him to the bed.

He pushes me onto the mattress and runs to his suitcase to grab a small bottle of lube and condom to place on the nightstand. I pull him on top of me and hungrily kiss him, running my hands over his back and arms. I’ve missed his skin on mine, the way his moans feel on my mouth, his breath on my neck, everything.

His lips begin trailing to my neck, then collarbone, chest, hips, before he reaches the base of my cock. Tongue tracing shaft to head, I shudder. If my body was a sonnet, Giovanni was Shakespeare, a master of the craft. He teases me before taking the full length in his mouth as I ball the sheets in my hands, unable to control the noises my mouth makes, causing him to smirk in satisfaction. Before reaching my breaking point, I pull him up and kiss him sloppily, tasting myself in his mouth before flipping him on his back. 

I stop to look at him. His eyes are dark and his body is shimmering with sweat shown by the dim lamp next to the bed. Placing hand on his red chest, I feel his heartbeat as it moves at rapid speed. No one has ever looked such a mess and so perfect all at once.

I reach for the bottle of lube on the nightstand, pop the lid, and coat my fingers. He moves his body closer to me before I tease his entrance with my middle finger, sliding it in gently as he moans of pure bliss and rapture. His eyes flutter shut as I insert a second finger, arching his back and rolling his hips forward at the same pace. He’s needed me.

If I believed in heaven, I’d imagine it would be right here with him; legs wrapped around my waist, hitched breaths, soft kisses on his face and neck as I move at a quickening rhythm, lost in those glossed-over brown eyes. It feels like our first time again, worshiping every second spent. Our bodies move in perfect harmony. 

I feel him start to shake underneath me, his wall breaking as beads of white coat his chest. He wraps around me tighter until I can’t take it anymore, groaning in relief as I finish, nearly collapsing onto him, exhausted and relieved. His finger traces up and down my spine as we lay there panting. I finally look at him, cheeks pink and mouth slightly agape, like a porcelain doll. Running my fingers through his black hair, I place a kiss on his forehead as he whispers:  
“Please don’t leave.”  
And I’m not going anywhere.  
I go to the bathroom, dampen a washcloth with warm water, clean our bodies, then climb under the covers.

_We slept in each other’s arms that night._


	4. Delicate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Max finally comes to terms with his feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs for the chapters atm:  
> 1\. Home- Daughter  
> 2\. Only- RY X  
> 3\. Waiting- Alice Boman  
> 4\. Delicate- Damien Rice  
> Is this on par with the other chapters? Probably not, but I'm at the beginning of finals and couldn't look at this anymore lol. This is meant to be a sort-of transition chapter for the next one that I am very excited to write. I apologize in advance.

I’m walking home from the bar at an excruciating hour, my feet close to blistering and my wig about to come off my head. Riding up the elevator, I unlock the door, and am bombarded by the dog running and attacking my feet. Talking in a baby voice and giving him some love and attention behind his ears, I refocus on the person getting up from the couch watching _Law & Order_ on TV, only wearing baggy shorts. He walks over to me and gives me a hug, not caring about the makeup melting off my face or the sweat staining my outfit. I was exhausted, sore, and a bit irritated, but now I’m filled with pure bliss.

“What are you still doing up?” I ask.  
“Just wanted to make sure you got back okay,” Giovanni says, giving me a quick kiss before playing with my hair that desperately needs restyling after the night.  
“You smell horrible,” he tells me laughing.  
“Hey, I have to shake the ass to make the coins,” I smile back, lifting my arm for him to twirl. He spins under me and pulls me closer as we dance to no music playing, giggling as we sway.  
“You’re still beautiful.”  
He pulls away, bowing to kiss my hand. I happily oblige as I flutter my eyelashes and bring my other hand to my cheek. I feel like a princess meeting her prince charming, and I’m in paradise. There can be nothing better than this.

_BEEP BEEP BEEP._

I’m thrown back into reality by my phone alarm around eight in the morning. I groan shutting it off on the nightstand, ruining my peaceful moment with prince charming’s cheek on my shoulder and legs intertwined. He’s still fast asleep, and I’m trying to grasp the last few minutes. _I just had a dream where we lived happily together with a fucking dog._ I’m in a tennis match with my thoughts, and at this point, I’m losing.

In his sleep he’s a sculpture: his jet black hair falls over his face so beautifully, light brown freckles cover the bridge of his nose from the Florida sun. I can’t help but smile, unable to remember the last time I was this happy.

The night before was perfect. Never in my life have I felt so needed by someone else: his embraces beg for love, his fingertips melt into me, his sounds fill my body with a heat I can’t begin to explain. I want to count his ribs with my lips, hear my name through an effortless sob, wrap my hands around his throat and claim him as mine. Never in my life have I needed someone as I needed him.

It scares me, terrifies me actually. I avoided this idea in fear of getting hurt weeks ago, yet here we are. _Am I moving too fast? Does he actually feel the same way? Do I actually feel like this, or am I just lonely?_ Part of me thinks this is a sick joke from previous relationships. His (lack of) eyebrows furrow as he repositions and I force my brain to shut up. I think about how many times I’ve been in love, and how each time I feel stupid thinking that I ever fell in love, but that was not love. That wasn’t this. _I’m obsessed with this boy._

“Baby,” I coo in his ear, wrapping my finger around a strand of his hair. He smiles and hums at me, eyes still closed as I softly peck his nose.  
“I have to get ready for my flight.”  
He lifts his thumb to my bottom lip, dragging it across the soft skin when he finally opens his eyes.  
“Why do you have to leave so early?” He gives me a fake frown before he smirks and kisses my chest. “We’re supposed to make up for lost time, it’s only fair.”  
More awake, he lifts his leg over my hip and straddles me, catching my lips on his in a sweet affair. We roll around for a few minutes, ignoring morning breath and absorbing any touch and kisses we can before I bring our moment to a steady halt.  
“As much as I would rather stay in this bed for the rest of my life over flying economy back to New York, I know Katelyn will be knocking on my door soon to leave for the airport.” I trace his face with my hand before I kiss him one last time. “Besides, I’ll see you in a couple days, superstar.”

Besides the finale taping, some of us were invited to an exhibit of Ru’s looks made by Zaldy, I get to watch my humiliating elimination right before top four, and then sit in a room for nine hours while we listen to past traumas and complain at the reunion. Just the thought of my week kicks me in the ass. The only nice thing will be seeing pretty boy’s face every day.

“Fine,” he groans, rolling off me and sitting-up on the headrest. We sit in comfortable silence for a few seconds before he blurts out, “so is this like, a thing now?”  
“Us?”  
“Yeah.”  
“I...I’d like that,” I reply, pushing myself up next to him, resting my head on his shoulder. His hand starts to slide atop mine, fingers dancing over my knuckles before spreading and piecing the puzzle together. My heart skips as his head turns to kiss my temple.  
“When should we tell everyone?” I ask him.  
“Could we wait until after the finale and reunion, just until everything slows down?”  
“That’s perfect.” I hate the idea of throwing this out to the world while it’s blooming. I know the reaction will be mixed, and neither of us need that stress. 

He returns the favor and pecks my nose for a goodbye at the door. I sneak into my room, pack up any last-minute things, and wait in the hallway for Katelyn wearing his black hoodie.  
“Where’d you get this?” she asks, grabbing the sleeve.  
“I found it when I was cleaning.” I tell her.

——

Wednesday rolls around and I’m in the back of an Uber with Kameron, proudly holding her excessive headpiece on the way to the event. We made plans to ride together last week in Chicago, chatting away until we pull up to the welcome party. Exiting the car, the first thing I see is my idiot lover taking a photo with a dog on the ground. Fitting. 

I run as quickly as I can on uneven pavement to see her. She looks breathtaking, even in a fancy t-shirt dress and fishnet gloves. I attempt to maintain my excitement, as I remember no one knows what’s going on, until she spots me and acts like she hasn’t seen me in a decade.  
“Cracker!” She stands up and hugs me as if her life depended on it, whispering a quick “hi baby” in my ear. I want to collapse in her arms at the sound of it, but I’m restrained by her death grip.The past two days were spent constantly texting, sneaking away for secret phone calls, anything that screamed early high-school relationship.  
“You already took my breath away with your look, no need to break my ribs,” I laugh,  
“Speak for yourself, idiot. I missed you.” she says. I’m glad we’re on the same wavelength. She sets me free and reaches for my hand before retracting it quickly, giving a sympathetic look. I understand. This night will be full of close-calls for the both of us.

We head inside, get drinks, and split off to catch up with our sisters. I find Monet out of the crowd and hug her from behind.  
“I can spot these tiny-ass man hands from a mile away girl!” She cackles and spins around to hug me back. Of all the girls, I miss her the most. She’s been my day one, my bridesmaid, my ride-or-die for years now. I’d be lost without her. Asia greets me with her blinding teeth, Eureka swallows me in an embrace, it’s one big season reunion, but half the girls and actually fun.

Most of the party is spent drinking, meeting random celebrities, attempting to bowl without breaking a nail, and catching quick glimpses of one another from across the room. It’s a shame, really. I just want to be tactile: a hand-hold or an arm around my waist wouldn’t hurt would it? Instead we’re stuck reenacting Romeo and Juliet. Vixen catches me off-guard with a hand on my shoulder, finding me with heart eyes again.

“So did you finally shoot your shot with Aquafina yet?”  
“Last night,” I tell her. She fans her face and pretends to cry.  
“My baby’s growing up so fast!” she jokes. I laugh as I pull her arm from her face. If anyone has to know, I’m glad I at least have her support.

People start arranging rides to the exhibit when Aquaria motions for me to come ride with her, Monet, and Asia. I gladly take her hand as we walk to the Uber and shimmy into the back seat. The entire ride we’re joking around and taking videos, Monet and Asia completely confused until they start mocking us; we’re laughing excessively for an excuse to put a hand on the other’s thigh. I forgot how fun it is to keep a secret like this.

\----

Spending my evening at a fashion exhibit is not my cup of tea, but the dresses are beautiful up-close and Aquaria looks like she’s in heaven, staring at the gowns if it’s love at first sight.  
“Why don’t you look at me like that?” I jokingly ask standing by her side. She smiles bumping me with her elbow.  
“Maybe I would get to if I could see you more often.” Her phone vibrates in her hand. She lifts it and her face drops, almost to a slight panic.  
“Is everything alright?”  
“Um, yeah, I just have to take this call. It’s kind of important. I’ll be quick,” she says and starts to walk away from me to the hallway. Weird.

I latch myself to Katelyn’s side while we mingle and snap some photos when I begin to wonder if Aquaria’s okay. It’s been ten minutes and she still isn’t back. Kameron comes up to me.  
“Hey, have you seen Aqua? They want us to get a group shot.”  
“Yeah she’s on the phone. I’ll go get her,” I say.  
I start walking toward the hallway when I see her, fingers on the bridge of her nose and completely irritated. I don’t remember the last time I saw her so angry about something since the double save. She sees me approaching, says something quick, and hangs up. What’s that about?

“Aqua what’s going on?” I ask her, mildly concerned. She doesn’t answer as she pushes me into the bathroom and kisses me hard, releasing and hugging me tight. I feel her chin quiver on my neck.  
“Hey hey hey,” I push away from her and put my hands on her face. She’s breathing heavy, avoiding eye contact. “Who were you talking to?” Shaking her head, she finally regains composure.  
“It was...just my management. Getting ready for these tours is starting to stress me out.”  
“Babe, look at me,” I lift her head to meet her eyes with mine. They’re glassy, teasing a drop to fall. “You’re going to prove to America why you deserve to win in two days. You can’t be worrying about something months in advance right now.” She nods. I kiss her again. “We’re here to celebrate our success and the success of Ru. There’s hundreds of people out there excited to see you. I want you to have a good time tonight, okay?”  
“Okay,” she says, giving me a soft grin. I fix my lipstick, now smudged from her red lips and follow her back to the exhibit hall. 

We stand by each other the rest of the night, sneaking hand holds and quick embraces. She’s laughing and talking with everyone after a couple more cocktails, it’s adorable. I could watch her for hours as her own art exhibit. Seeing her upset pains me. I want to swaddle her in a blanket and shield her from the rest of the world since I can’t do that for myself. All I want in the world is her happiness. She has me wrapped around her finger, double-knotted and tied in a bow. I finally admit it:  
I’m in love, and not in the way I told her months ago. _I am so in love._

\-----

The next morning I sneak out of my room to see him. He greets me at the door smiley and slightly hungover, remnants of last night’s makeup around his eyes.  
“Did you have fun last night, raccoon?” I ask placing my hands at his waist.  
“I would’ve had more fun if you spent the night here,” he tells me, smirking and reaching down to grab my ass.  
“And I would have if you didn’t fall asleep on the ride home,” I reply back. He ruffles my hair with his fingers and sticks his tongue out.  
“I’m going to take a shower.”  
“I’ll be waiting.”  
I lay on his bed when I hear the water start running, scrolling through Twitter. After a few minutes, I hear his phone buzz next to me, a text message appearing on the screen. I’m typically not a nosy person, but the heart emojis next to the name intrigue me. It’s not his mom. It’s not his sister. It’s not Jordan. It’s no one I know.

_When will I see you again?_

He's been having fun keeping secrets, too.  
I reread the text multiple times just to make sure I’m seeing it right, hands shaking as I toss the phone back on the bed. Maybe I should be sadder, but I’m emotionless, completely numb, almost ready to laugh. It’s never been in my favor to get my hopes up; _when will you stop being so naive, Maxwell?_ I can’t be here; I don’t even want an explanation. Quickly standing up, I take off his hoodie and leave it on the floor. The water shuts off as I slam the door behind me.

 _Everything._ He told me he wanted everything, but he’ll get nothing from me. This will bloom into nothing for me.

_Oh, how I wish he meant nothing to me._


	5. Seasonal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After finding out Gio has been seeing someone else, Max is having a hard time deciding how to react.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for 50 kudos! I took a slightly different approach to this one, so I hope this all sounds cohesive.  
> Here are the songs:  
> 1\. Home- Daughter  
> 2\. Only- RY X  
> 3\. Waiting- Alice Boman  
> 4\. Delicate- Damien Rice  
> 5\. Seasonal Hero- Orlando Weeks

He’s called me sixteen times in the last three hours.

_“You don’t understand.”_  
“It’s not hard to understand. You’re selfish for thinking you could have both of us.”  
_“I’m not selfish. I was trying to end it so we could be together.”_  
“But you didn’t, and I’m not going to be a homewrecker.”  
_“Max, please. Let me make this right.”_  
“I’m not going to let you hurt both of us.”  
_“I can’t lose you.”_ His voice starts shaking.  
“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

I finally hang up the phone, tired of the explanation I didn’t want in the first place. He wasn’t on the phone with management last night. He wasn’t stressed about touring. No, he was talking to his angry _boyfriend_ \- some guy he had a fling with on our two-month drought, about why he’d been ignoring him the past couple of days. I’m shocked, mostly that he didn’t tell me, and was willing to give in to my desires so I could fall for his stupid game. I rest my head against the base of my bed, laying the phone next to me, deciding if that was a good idea or not. I breathe deeply, understanding it doesn’t matter now. Over the years I’ve learned to respect myself more when it came to relationships, understanding people come and go in waves and I move on. I’ve been cheated on, chewed up, and spit out- I can’t allow myself to be the cause of someone else’s trauma, no matter how badly I needed him.

\----

I’m sitting on my bed, watching the ending of Untucked. They show me reading Gio’s note, talking about how thankful I was for our friendship, encouraging him to bring home the crown as I leave. I turn the tv off and sit in silence, my stomach churning. All of the talks we had on set repairing what was lost, becoming strangers again when I found someone else, and finally igniting the fire we had all along just to be taken away seven hours ago. Hurt doesn’t begin to describe this feeling. I’m empty, numb, and shattered by a man I sought forever from. I fell so hard and wasn’t picked up. What makes this worse?

_I still want him._ Here I am, longing for a man’s love that I refuse. My vision becomes blurry as I feel the first tear fall on my cheek.

People that know me well know that I hate crying; I learned to hold it in for so long. For the first time that I can remember, I let my emotions run totally free, grasping my pillow as silent sobs absorb into the fabric. I’m pathetic, and I accept that over any feelings I have about anyone.

\----

Yesterday was a blur. I wake up in the clothes I wore last night, head pounding and eyes crusted over. In about 15 minutes I’ll need to call into a bunch of tabloids for exit interviews, which wouldn’t be much of a problem, except I’m so incredibly bitter. My mind can’t decide between sadness and anger this morning, bitter that I would take a man back in a heartbeat knowing he used me. It’s sad, isn’t it?

They ask me about my elimination; I lie and say I cried because of it. They ask me about my future; I attempt to sound like a Good Samaritan after completely shitting on Asia like it was nothing. They ask me about Aquaria and I’m silent, acting like I’m processing their question when my thoughts swirl like a category five hurricane.  
“...Cracker?” the journalist checks in to make sure she hasn’t lost me.  
I snap out of it and just say it would’ve been fun to lip sync against her and end it at that, almost ready to create a therapy session with a press intern.

I take a shot after an hour and a half of pure torture, call Asia to please disregard anything I just said about her out of residual anger, text Kameron an apology for my rabid fans, and shower before heading to the theatre to get ready.

\----

I stare at her from the other side of the red carpet, dressed in black, lights hitting her from all directions. As usual, it’s her room and we’re all just in it. She’s breathtaking, to the point where it hurts. Just a couple hours earlier when we were getting ready, she busted into the dressing room with a microphone and a camera crew, asking the girls questions.

“Okay Aquaria, let’s head over to Cracker,” I hear the cameraman say. It’s the first time we’ve been together since yesterday morning. I put on a smile and turn around, hiding the pain in my eyes, accepting how awkward this will be for both of us. She looks at me terrified, takes a deep breath, and walks over. Thankfully, she asks Katelyn a question, who does most of the talking. Giving me a small smile, she walks out of the room. I sigh too harshly, as Katelyn looks concerned.

“Are you okay?”  
_No. I’m not okay. I wasn’t okay earlier. I don’t know when I’ll be okay. I will punch the next person that asks me that._  
“Yeah, I’m just getting used to the corset,” I mutter.

——

Aquaria looks ready to kill someone while simultaneously ready to crawl into a corner and cry after her first lip sync. Her and Eureka hold hands and raise them in one-sided pride. After the producers cut filming to clean and get ready for the next one, she walks off covering her mouth. I’m not sure what comes over me, but I stand up and walk backstage. Monet calls for me from behind, but I hear Vixen tell her to sit down.

After a couple of minutes, I find her back in the dressing room with Jordan, carefully blotting her eyes with a tissue to salvage her makeup. She catches me in the corner of her eye and readjusts in her chair, hugging her leg, almost scared. I walk over slowly and grab a brush.  
“Lean back.”  
She listens, and I begin blending underneath her lower lash line, disguising the tear stains as I rest my other hand on her shoulder. I’m gentle, absorbing the sight of her precious face.

“Cracker I’m sor-“  
“Don’t worry about me right now.” I cut her off, “You’re lip-syncing for $100,000 in less than an hour.”  
Jordan is sitting on his phone, slightly confused at what he’s hearing. I’m sure he’ll ask her later, but I don’t care. She’s quiet as I retouch with more shadows. It’s frustrating- my brain tells me to stay away while my heart shows me the direction, pulling me back into passionate thoughts of Florida as his phone screen flashes like a strobe light.

“We’ve gone full circle,” she finally says, a slight laugh escaping. I think about the first time I met her- 19 years old and she was showing me up with my (lack thereof) makeup skills, painting my face for a shoot. Where drag found me on accident, it branded her from birth. She was so eager and happy, telling me about her dream to be on the show. Now here I am, working on her face before she wins said show. I can’t tell if I’m emotional over how far we’ve come, or if I’m about to shut down from my thoughts at war. Either way, I’m done with her eyes and hug her hesitantly.  
“Keep the crown in New York, kid,” I whisper to her before I walk out, quickly before she sees my own tears.

It’s the last thing I’ve said to her since.

\----

_“The winner of RuPaul's Drag Race, America’s next drag superstar, is...Aquaria.”_  
I knew it. From the first thirty seconds of the performance, I knew she had it in the bag. The bar erupts, people screaming and hugging as Katelyn and I stare at the screen.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m so proud of her. No one I know works as hard as she does, loves this as much as she does, and I want to be happy.  
_But I can’t_ \- I just sit in silence, thinking about how her world is building up while mine is falling apart. My brain tortures me every second at the sight of her. I hate myself for missing her.

\----

We had a show together just days after her crowning, and I had a panic attack in the morning- consumed by the idea that she would despise me. While I wasn’t wrong, I also wasn’t right. We just didn’t talk; not at the meet and greet, barely backstage in-between numbers, on the Uber ride home, nothing. She knew about the video circling around, and I think she feels she deserves it from what she did to me. If only she knew how much pain I’d been causing myself, choosing between my head and my heart.

A few weeks later, I’m back in New York, dangerously alone with my head, finally capable of losing composure on my own accord. Everything reminds me of him: street vendors selling flowers, small coffee shops I walk past, I’m acting like he’s dead. _Moulin Rouge!_ is finally ruined for me, relating to the death of forbidden love too much in the present moment. I just told Vixen, and she called me immediately, talking for hours to make sure I would be alright by myself. She tried convincing me to go out to keep my mind off everything, but I refused. Sitting alone in my apartment, everything is hauntingly quiet. I block out the car honking during rush hour traffic, the people yelling across the street, the ding of the elevator by my door; the loudest things are the voices in my head.

_Maybe you could call him._  
Don’t you dare call him.  
_He probably broke up with that guy._  
You’re literally pathetic, drooling over someone that doesn’t care about you.  
_I know you still love him._  
You know he’s not good for you.

I try to keep my mind busy doing some cleaning, rearranging clothes and jewelry when I find an unopened box under my bed. Lifting the lid, I find Gio’s note right on top. I reread it, my stomach churning. Next to the box, a beanie he left the last night he stayed over after the first episode. I pick it up and hold it to my cheek. It smells like him. We were hopelessly careless with each other, full of apologies and anger, and, without realizing, love. There was so much love that night, drowning in each other because we thought it would be over, setting him free to save us both from the pain, feeling empty in the morning when I didn’t sense his warm body pressed to mine. My heart wins.

_I miss him._ The hardest thing to grasp is the uncertainty. Would we even last? Would it end miserably after a few months? Would we ever get a dog? I don’t know, nor would I ever, because I hurt myself to keep him unhappy.

Suddenly my phone buzzes in my pocket. I look to see it’s Monet.  
“Hello?”  
“You still having sad girl hours?” she asks me. I groan.  
“How’d you find out?”  
“I’m not gonna say Vixen is terrible at lying,” I roll my eyes, “but she’s pretty worried about you being alone. I’m mad you didn’t tell ME first, but I know how much your brain hates you,” she says. I can’t help but appreciate the act. “Do you want to come over?”  
“I’ll be fine, Mo. I promise.” I tell her, tossing the beanie on my bed.  
“You could always have a one-nighter to get your mind off it. I know that’s not your thing but it’ll at least be fun.” The thought makes me roll my eyes again, but maybe she has a point. Maybe I just needed to feel something again so I stop sulking over it.  
“I’ll think about it. Sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. Vixen found out on accident,” I reply.  
“I still can’t believe how well you guys have been hiding it! I saw Aqua today and she was completely fine.”  
“Ouch.”  
“Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. It was an ‘I haven’t had dick in 3 years because I’m dedicated to the craft,’ kind of fine.” She’s talking in a fake British accent and I’m laughing for the first time in a month or so.  
“Wait, where did you see her?” I ask.  
“Oh, Bob and the girls were rehearsing for Werq the World today, so I stopped by and said hey.”  
“That’s fun. I think I might actually listen to you for once and re-download Grindr.”  
“Yaas! Fuck the sadness away, girl!” she cackles.  
“Thanks for checking up on me. I love you, junky whore.”  
“Anything for you Crack-Attack. Love you, bitch.”

I hang up and stare at my phone for a little bit before I toss it next to the beanie and take a shower. The warm water runs down my body as I contemplate Monet’s advice of just having a one-night stand to calm me down. It’s a great idea, and I try to muster the confidence, but I can’t. I don’t need to feel something, I need to feel _someone._ One-night stands used to be fine in the past, but as I get older it’s lost its appeal, and for almost a year now, I’ve only slept with people to which I had some connection. I can’t whisper sweet nothings in a partner’s ear I’ve never met, nor could I study their muscles with my fingertips, mumble blessings against their lips, even convince them to stay the night, just to have more time together. I need someone that means something to me or _meant_ something. My eyes get wide when I remember a minor detail Monet told me. I dry myself off before texting:  
“Little birdie tells me you’re in town. Want to meet for drinks at 10?”  
Quickly, I see a reply:  
_I already ordered room service, but I wouldn’t mind some company!_

I smirk getting dressed, knowing this is a terrible idea, but clearly, I’m not perfect.

I can’t call Gio, but at least someone else is around tonight.  
_What’s wrong with a little company?_


	6. Eden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Max pays a visit to an ex.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me? Writing Crameron? It was going to happen eventually. I had to keep my promise with the tags! This chapter is short and a little choppy because Kam's characterization isn't my specialty, but I wanted to get something out for Christmas for you guys! If you were looking for quality Craquaria content this probably isn't for you, sorry lol.  
> Songs so far:  
> 1\. Home- Daughter  
> 2\. Only- RY X  
> 3\. Waiting- Alice Boman  
> 4\. Delicate- Damien Rice  
> 5\. Seasonal Hero- Orlando Weeks  
> 6\. Eden- NoMBe

I hop on the next train to Midtown, a cheap bottle of wine in a gift bag. My fingers tap on the seat profusely as my leg shakes, anxious for the evening ahead. This could go two ways: we have a fun, calm evening catching up, or it turns into a night we’ll regret in a few days, but I’ll worry about that later. Either way, the doors quickly open and I exit by Times Square, walking a couple blocks to his hotel. I text him when I’m a couple minutes out, way too eager for the second-scenario to occur. 

Shimmying through the revolving door, I see him sitting in a chair in the lobby.

_Dane._

He’s in joggers and a hoodie, mindlessly looking at his phone when I approach and lightly hit the visor of his baseball cap. Looking up, he smiles from ear to ear as he stands and pulls me into a hug.

“Bearing gifts?” he asks me.  
“If that’s what you want to call ten-dollar malbec,” I reply with a smirk.  
“It’s a gift compared to my five-dollar chardonnay in the fridge,” he says while we walk to the elevator.  
“The most powerful minds have the cheapest taste.” We both laugh.

\----

After a few episodes of _Golden Girls_ and an entire bottle of wine in my system, I’m pleasantly tipsy and barely paying attention to the TV. We’re sharing a bag of pretzels, talking about touring and past gigs with light music playing from his laptop. “Good as Hell” comes on and we start reenacting the lip-sync between him and Monet. The smallest remarks make us howl, giving me a chance to admire Dane’s smile- the way he squints his eyes, lifts his arms, lightly kicks his legs, all silent until he takes his first breath and sounds like a hyena. It’s my favorite thing about him. We take a few seconds to gain composure.

“Do you mind if I smoke?” He asks me.  
“I’ll join,” I say, getting off the bed.  
A warm July breeze greets us on his little balcony. I’m envious of the view he has of my city: Times Square flashing every color, the Empire State Building almost a straight shot from the railing, blocks away from the MoMA. He flicks the lighter, the flame softly illuminating his face. I watch him exhale smoke- neck craned to the sky, attracted to the behavior more than I should be. He could be eating cereal and I’d lick my lips. God, I’m pathetic.  
“It’s incredible here,” he says softly.  
“The hotel or the city?”  
“Well, both, but mostly the city. I love everything about it.” I smile.  
“Have you thought about moving here?” I ask him.  
“More often since I’ve been on the road,” he tells me, “it would give me a chance to see everyone more. I almost looked at apartments earlier in the year.” I rest my arms on the railing, disappointed thinking about his last statement.  
_For us?_ We talked about it before, but he wanted to wait until after the show aired. I would ask, but I refrain and settle for a nod. It’s not until I hear him say:  
“I miss when Times Square was decorated for Christmas.” He looks at me.

——

I remember during the holidays when he came to surprise me. We went ice skating at Rockefeller Center, holding hands as we took laps by the tree. As a sturdy guy, the ice wasn’t his friend. I think he fell every time I left his side. After we got home, we took a shower, made some hot chocolate, and watched movies. I started falling asleep in his lap while he played with my hair. Half-awake, he kissed me on the temple as he whispered,  
_“I love you.”_  
It was the first time either of us said it. I shot back up, said I loved him too, and jumped onto his lap, kissing him passionately and clutching his face so hard there were red marks on his cheeks from my thumbs. I let my eyes well-up with tears while my face hurt from smiling. He made me feel wanted for the first time.

——

Without realizing, I’ve inched my way closer to his side. His cologne overpowers the sour smell of smoke escaping his mouth.  
“We never even finished Pretty Woman,” I laugh softly. Lightly, I hear him snicker.  
“What?” His laugh becomes more apparent.  
“Do you remember the time you tried making a frozen pizza drunk and you put it in upside down?”  
“That smell didn’t leave for weeks,” I shake my head, shivering at the time spent scraping burnt cheese off the bottom of my oven.

We share more stores from the past: the time he tried convincing me to adopt a wounded duckling we walked past in Central Park, when the Chinese food delivery guy came in the middle of us having sex, finally telling our sisters we were dating and Monique screeching about how she knew something was up. After we broke up, I forgot all the wonderful memories we shared together. We were so happy, now sitting in comfortable silence remembering life almost a year ago.

“Have you thought about if we lasted?” he asks me out of the blue. I freeze in my tracks. What the fuck do I say to that? _No. I fucked and fell in love with our friend._ Honesty won’t help either of us in this situation.  
“More recently,” I say, which isn’t wrong, it just omits the part where I moved on in a week. I’m starting to catch onto his game: bringing up past memories, thinking about missed opportunities- _he misses us._ Interesting.  
He’s quiet again, then I hear him clear his throat.  
“Have you been any more...successful since we ended?” He’s making this way too easy now. I give him a side eye with a devilish grin plastered on my face.  
“If I did, I wouldn’t have asked to see you.”  
He stops inhaling smoke mid-breath, surprised at the words out of my mouth. Shaking his head smiling, he, tells me, “you’re an enigma, Maxwell.”  
“You've solved me before,” I reply back. I grab the cigarette on his lips, raise my eyebrows, and take a drag, keeping eye contact. Relishing the burn down my throat, we exhale the smoke one after the other. I feel his arm brush against mine as he takes the cigarette back, dropping it on the ground and stepping on it. His eyes lock onto mine as his pupils dilate.

Almost in slow motion, we both reach in for a delicate kiss, tasting the ash on each other’s tongues, aching for more. It’s not long until the catharsis takes over with his hands on my face, chest to chest as I embrace him, lips never parting. We carefully walk back into the room as he’s already removing his hoodie and throws his hat to the side. _Check mate._

Of course I liked his personality, but his body was my heroin. I trace each individual muscle on his torso with my finger before I mark his collarbone, his hand running through my hair, pressing me into him. Before I realize, he spins me around and pushes our bodies forward.

He has my face against the wall, lips at my neck and restraining my arms above my head.  
“I’ve missed you,” he whispers, biting my earlobe. I struggle my right arm free to grab his neck, cock my head to the side, and kiss him sloppily while he unbuttons my shirt. Becoming impatient, he rips the rest open, a couple buttons bouncing off the wall. He undoes my belt, unzips my jeans, and reaches into my underwear, stroking me off from behind. My body feels ready to collapse at any moment, eyes rolling to the back of my head as beads of sweat form on my brow. I feel his growing hardness through his pants as I reach around and fumble with the drawstring. Taking the rest of my shirt off, I stop his hand and spin myself back around, stepping out of my jeans. My hand presses against his sternum, pushing him back to the bed.

——

I lay next to him restless. His arm is snaked behind my neck, body facing me, fast asleep. Carefully as I’ve done before, I slip out of bed and head to the bathroom. I expected my neck to be darker, only a light red under my right ear. I’m sure the scratches on his back are much worse than anything I have. My eyes are bloodshot and head pounding, sobering up from a night well-spent. A draft in the bathroom causes me to shiver. I step out, put my underwear on, and head to the balcony.

I see the flashing city lights in the distance, but it’s dead silent. The cold railing I grip in my hands doesn’t help my chills, but my head is spinning enough to forget about them. Tonight feels like a dream. Four hours ago I was shot back into a reality where I was happy for a while, in fact I didn’t expect it to end. It felt so raw and candid- I sensed the truth in his whisper against the wall when he said he missed me. His hands were rough but his mouth was so delicate, blessing my skin, claiming my body.

But it wasn’t his. It won’t ever be his. I thought falling back to him would get my mind off it, but it didn’t. My heart belongs elsewhere.

_I need Giovanni._


	7. Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Max going through his typical pining because why be happy?? like ever??

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, I AM SO SORRY FOR TAKING TWO WEEKS TO WRITE SHIT. Never have I felt so uninspired to do something, but here we are. I like the approach I took. While it moves kind of quickly with less detail than I particularly write, I'm ready to write another fic just so I can have more conversations between Cracker and Monet. It's so fun! Anyways, I changed some of the plot at the end so now I'm left bare for the following chapter, but I hope it won't take me as long to write again. Thanks for your patience with me while I malfunction lol.
> 
> Here are the songs so far:  
> 1\. Home- Daughter  
> 2\. Only- RY X  
> 3\. Waiting- Alice Boman  
> 4\. Delicate- Damien Rice  
> 5\. Seasonal Hero- Orlando Weeks  
> 6\. Eden- NoMBe  
> 7\. These Days- Wet
> 
> p.s.- the song was supposed to be "The End of Love" by Florence + the Machine because it fits the first part so well (and I wanted an excuse to use it because it's so beautiful), but I changed it as I was writing these notes.

The morning after my excursion with Dane came begrudgingly. He was in the same position I left him that night, resting on his right side, left hand gripping the sheets. His hair was a mess and stubble darker from overnight, calmly breathing through his nose. Sighing deeply, I traced his tattoos with my finger, thankful he was a heavy sleeper.

I thought I’d regret what happened in a couple days, but I was so wrong- it was only a couple hours. I hated that I texted him, I hated that I said I wanted him, and, at the same time, I hated that I didn’t want him. He and I were perfect for each other- we ended because we were scared of the future, but when future came I couldn’t accept his love. The idea that I was willing to turn down something wonderful at the right time for something that was impractical made me sick. We could’ve started something better, instead pretty boy mocked my dreams, never loosening the knot I was around his finger. I felt Dane move lightly, scratch his eyes, and look at me with a soft smile.  
“Do you want breakfast?” he asked low and groggy. Of course I didn’t, I wanted out of there. This entire plan erupted in my face, yet something made me say yes. _Maybe you just need more time to figure it out,_ I thought to myself, _spend the day with him- things might warm up_. I agreed to food, determined to keep my mind off Gio.

It didn’t work. Dane talked about touring over waffles, I envied the time he would spend with him. We strolled through Central Park, and must’ve walked past thirty dogs that he would’ve absolutely gushed about. The worst came when a slender man, slightly taller than me with a jet-black fade in skinny jeans, walked in front of us for about four blocks. It bothered me so much I made us get coffee across the street to change directions. I shivered watching Dane put about five packets of sugar in his, the same way Gio did when we started this tailspin just a few short months ago.

_I officially went insane_ , but I kept my smile on. Who was I to ruin a perfectly fine day with such a lovely man? I made my normal witty remarks, held his hand every so often in a last-stitch effort, anything to keep faith and avoid how I truly felt, until I couldn’t take it anymore.  
That evening I followed Dane back to his hotel room where I collapsed in his arms. I broke, crying into his shoulder between short kisses as he rubbed my back. He placed delicate pecks on my collar bone while he held me. Somehow, he knew; not about Gio, but that I couldn’t love him. Maybe he saw it in my eyes through quick glances that afternoon, maybe he regretted the night before too, I wasn’t entirely sure. After what felt like an hour, my sobs fell silent, turning into whispered apologies as he replied the same back, I can only assume for ruining our first shot at a relationship. The whole moment was heartbreaking, yet cathartic, as if it were our final parting before never seeing each other again. No closure felt so tender. When we both decided we said “sorry” enough to last us into the next decade, he kissed me once more, said he’ll see me in the UK, and sent me on my way.

I’d like to say that life has been easier since this, but I hate to lie.  
_It’s been a year after everything happened and I’m still back at square one._

\----

The last time I saw either of them was at New York DragCon in September. Dane and I, since our last night, have been extremely close. We still talk almost every day and accept that we just aren’t meant to be anything but friends, which is fine by me. Gio, on the other hand, hasn’t spoken to me in months. Every meeting we face has been with people surrounding us, whether it be traveling through the UK and Ireland or forced into a convention center for three days. We’ve shared constant gazes, waiting for the other to speak up or drag the other away from the commotion. Now that neither of us have an excuse to talk, we don’t. If it weren’t for other people posting him on their Instagram stories, I would never know what he’s doing. It’s sad. Images of his fingers dancing around my bare skin and mouth agape as a whimper escapes with closed eyes torment my brain. Missing his body, his smile, his sleepy, shaky voice when he wakes up; it physically hurts. Tours after tours and I’ve become exhausted.

It’s now March and I’m on another bus after being overseas for the first two months of the year. Constantly traveling has helped keep my mind off it all, but I can only handle so much. I’m sick all the time, I only talk to people physically around me, and the only time I leave the bus is for a show, then I head straight for my bunk, isolating any aspect of my life from the world. I claim that it’s to “save my energy for the crowd,” but the truth is, I have no energy. Every emotion that I feel is locked away like a rabid animal, territorial to any person trying to set them free. 

The only one that has taken notice of my mood is Monet, as if her sixth sense is knowing when I’m upset. Thankfully, she keeps her distance. There are times on travel days where I don’t leave my bunk and she hands me a water bottle and some pretzels, just so I’m not a zombie the next day. Even when I leave my bed, I sit close to her and she plays with my hair as I sprawl across the seat, never asking any questions. I make up for it by cleaning her lace and giving her some water and ibuprofen in the morning after she goes out. Our unspoken pact of living like an old married couple, if we don’t find someone by fifty, grows stronger by the day.

On one of the last days, she finally asks me about everything.  
“Have you talked to him?” she asks while we’re eating lunch.  
“Who?”  
“Gio,” she’s scrolling through her phone like it’s casual conversation. I roll my eyes.  
“I don’t want to,” I lie to her, not looking up from my bowl of mac and cheese. Out of the corner of my eye, I see her head pivot, her phone lock, and the same hand fall dead on the table.  
“Bullshit!” She practically screeches in my ear, making me flinch. Vanjie yells from across the bus, “what?”  
“Nothing,” I say through my teeth, giving Monet a glare into next week.  
“I have not watched you sulk for a month straight about our friend you cozied-up with a year ago for you to lie to me, Maxwell,” she whispers, the condescending tone slapping me in the face.  
“And what exactly would you like me to do? Act like we’re chill? Pour my soul out to him? Ask him if he wants to move in?” I start mocking her, now raising my voice.  
“Texting works too,” she gives me a large grin. I place my head in my hands.  
“Monet I...I can’t. I’m the one who ended it. I’m sure he wants nothing to do with me. Besides, what’s the point if I’m probably just going to get hurt again?” Zero things about a heartbroken man in his mid-thirties acting like the world is ending sounds fuckable. Monet lightly sighs.  
“Okay,” she says, sounding ready to admit defeat. We sit in silence for a few moments when before taking a sip of water I hear her add,  
_“He asked about you the other day.”_

She’s smirking into her water bottle, knowing she finally has my full attention. Her seventh sense is noticing what causes my brain to malfunction. The comment sends a flashback of early March when Gio texted me after talking to Monet. Our matchmaker must want a happy ending.  
“What did you tell him?” I ask nervously.  
“Don’t worry, I didn’t tell him you’ve been a real-life Tom Hansen.” I just stare at her. She senses my confusion before rolling her eyes.  
“You’ve _seriously_ never seen _500 Days of Summer?_ You’re not that old!” She shoves me as she cackles. “Instead of saying you’re moping around like a lost puppy, I just said you were fine and a little under-the-weather. It’s the same thing I tell all of these hoes when you won’t come out of your cage at night.” I shove her right back for that last one.  
“How’s he been?” I finally ask, humored that he’s been thinking about me as he swirls through my unconscious at rapid velocity.  
“Your phone broken?” she asks me back, the cheeky grin returning. She won’t give me a break, will she? I audibly groan, a smile on my face. Pulling my phone out of my pocket, she gets up and walks behind me to look at my screen. We’re acting like two teenage girls in a rom-com.  
“I want to see you hit send ‘cause I don’t trust you right now,” she tells me. I smirk as I type out the message and hit the blue button.

_“Hey, stranger.”_


	8. Control

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The lovers meet face to face unexpectedly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter...is a lot. I think I might have covered all the bases here. I won't lie, I've been waiting to write this one for a while so I hope you enjoy it as much as I did writing it!
> 
> Songs so far:  
> 1\. Home- Daughter  
> 2\. Only- RY X  
> 3\. Waiting- Alice Boman  
> 4\. Delicate- Damien Rice  
> 5\. Seasonal Hero- Orlando Weeks  
> 6\. Eden- NoMBe  
> 7\. These Days- Wet  
> 8\. Can't Control My Love- Total Giovanni (fitting band name for this one)
> 
> (side note: I know that some dialogue matches up with another fic, fire meets gasoline, that recently updated, but it was COMPLETELY unintentional. I had the scene written before their update and it's a total coincidence. We already talked about it and it's all good!)

Perhaps selfish, but I expected at least some type of answer- a simple “hello” would have sufficed, but I got nothing. No texts, no calls; he even stopped replying to Monet a couple days ago, as if she’s guilty by association. I know I’m not obligated to an answer from him, but nothing adds up. What did I possibly do in the short amount of time between when he talked to Monet and when I texted him? Two weeks later, I’m back at home, ghosted by a past lover who somehow can’t give me the time of day anymore. What the fuck is going on?

My day has been quiet. Katelyn went to visit family in DC before we go back on the road, and besides cleaning, I’ve checked my phone unconsciously for a response every twenty minutes and shame myself each time. In the evening, I hear my intercom in the kitchen. I wasn’t expecting anyone, but I press the microphone.  
“Can I help you?”  
“Let me up, bitch!” Monet booms through the speaker. I buzz her in, and in a couple minutes, there’s a knock on my door. To my surprise, she brought a special guest.  
“Long time no see, Cracks!” Vixen yells and runs in for a hug.  
“What are you doing here?” I laugh into her shoulder while we embrace.  
“Well, I was bored and had a few days off, so this one convinced me to fly in,” she tells me, pointing at Monet. They’re both dressed ready to go out.  
“Awe! Where are you guys going?” They look at each other.  
“Yeah um, funny story...we’re taking you to a club,” Monet replies.  
“Oh, that’ll be fu- wait, what?” I ask, registering the words that come out of her mouth. Laughing, Vixen replies, “Don’t ask questions, just get dressed!”  
“Guys, you know I’m not a club person,” I say, protesting both eager gals.  
“Fully aware, but I’m not going to let you sit in this apartment all sad while I’m in town! Just for a couple of hours, okay? If you still don’t like it we can head somewhere else,” Vixen offers. I guess it wasn’t a bad idea to have a little change of scenery, and I haven’t hung out with them outside work in forever. After a few seconds, I agree to humor them for a little while.

\----

I change into a short-sleeve button-up and denim shorts quickly, and we head to some dance club in Chelsea. It’s pretty packed- hundreds of silhouettes outlined in purple and green strobe lights crowd the floor and an elevated platform, Lime blasting through the building enough to make my feet vibrate.  
“Throwback Thursday!” Vixen yells as she skips to the bar. I roll my eyes at the sight, knowing I’ll need a couple of drinks before I find myself comfortable here. We grab some vodka sodas and find ourselves among the outskirts of the large group, easing into the rhythm of a techno-remix of “Chain Reaction” by Diana Ross.

On my third cocktail and about an hour in, I’m having the time of my life. I’m dancing, attempting to know the words of songs I’ve never heard- either I’m tipsy or hallucinating from overheating, possibly both. Vixen and Monet entertain themselves by flirting with various men that walk past, which I avoid by stepping out to catch some fresh air. A light breeze catches my bare arms and neck, chilling the sweat and finally cooling me down. I rest against the brick wall behind me, closing my eyes and smiling at the sky. People walking by probably give strange glances, but I don’t care. I think about how I’ve lived since my face was shown to the world; New York has almost become foreign. I’m treated like a celebrity by locals at bars where I worked for seven years. Fans around the world chant my name so loud I can’t use a microphone. The entire time, I hid my issues from them, every performance they helped me forget before I entered my downward spiral. Now, I can forget without their help. For the first time, I don’t worry about him, I praise myself. I’m floating. I’m happy. _It took eleven months, but I’m finally happy._

Without realizing, Monet follows me outside, startling me when our shoulders touch as she stands beside me, dragging me back to reality.  
“You good, girl?” she asks me smiling. I open my eyes and look at her.  
“Never better,” is all I can manage before I pull her in for a hug. “Thank you.”  
She says nothing, but I know she’s happy to see me like this, rubbing my back. If it weren’t for her support, I’m not sure where I’d be at this point. I’m so thankful to have her in my life.  
“Let’s head back inside,” she says, grabbing my hand.

We’re back in the same routine, dancing with no care in the world, making fun of Vixen when “Groove is in the Heart” comes on, laughing as we act a fool, everything is perfectly fi- wait.  
Wait a minute.  
_Wait a fucking minute._

Every previous emotion I felt outside falls to the floor. About sixty feet from me, a skinny, dark-haired boy catches my eye. He’s in shorts, a mesh black tank top, and sneakers- around his waist a black hoodie that I know far too well.

_Giovanni._

He’s with some of his friends, dancing provocatively and spilling their drinks. A common evening for the younger man, but what the fuck is he doing downtown?

“I need some water,” I tell Vixen and Monet, hurrying away before they ask questions. Sipping on my drink, I have a better view of him from the bar at half the distance.

Grinding his hips on a “friend,” I tense. Gio’s left arm wraps around the back of his neck while mystery man runs both hands down his torso. Why does it bother me so much? Jealousy has never looked good on me, but I’m getting hungry at another man’s touch on him. It doesn’t take very long for him to catch a familiar face in the crowd. We lock eyes after a couple minutes on accident. It takes him a little bit to recognize who he sees. He’s shocked. The satisfaction causes me to smirk. So much for avoiding me, prince charming. 

Within seconds, I see him mouth something to his friend, and head for a nearby hallway.  
He can’t hide anymore. I chase after him.

\----

Maneuvering through the crowd, I notice him through the doorframe. He runs his hands through his hair and props his arm on the wall. The same sight in the hallway a year ago comes back, except he’s glistening under a teal fluorescent light, and this time, I know he’s angry with me as I approach.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” I ask him with his back turned.  
“No, what the fuck is wrong with _you?_ ” He spins around, sticking his index finger in my face. I smell the vodka on his breath. “Why are you here?”  
“Sorry, I forgot to ask where you were so you could keep avoiding me. Oh wait, you wouldn’t fucking answer me anyway,”  
“I was doing much better without you here so if you don’t mind, I’m going to go back and act like this didn’t happen.” He starts to walk past me when I grab his arm and pull him back against the wall.  
“Stop running away and tell me what the fuck I did to you,” I snap at him.  
“ _Everything!_ I can’t even stand to look at you anymore. You’ve ruined any touch I have with someone. I’m drained thinking about trusting someone after you shattered me twice. Happy?” Time may pass slowly, but we’re still on the same wavelength.  
“You act like you weren’t ready to fully lead me on when you were seeing someone else.” I’m ready to laugh. “You’re the last person to talk about trust.”  
“What are you gonna do? Run back to Dane for a sympathy fucking?”  
Oh my God.  
“Yeah, I know about everything. Do you get off from fucking us over and finding a new friend you can manipulate? Want a trophy for sneaking around and making us feel fucking worthless?”  
He’s beet red, voice shaking as he holds back tears. 

I can’t believe the words coming out of his mouth, more so, I can't believe he’s jealous. Of all the men he could have at the snap of his fingertips, and he still wants whatever I have. I can’t tell whether to feel flattered or sorry for him. This is starting to feel pointless. Stubbornness only makes this worse.

Letting my guard down, I admit defeat. Honesty is all I have left for him.  
“I turned down Dane because of you. I never leave my house because too many things remind me of you. The last ten months of my life have been a literal fucking hell because of _you,_ ” I spit back. “Your brain doesn’t hate you enough to think about every little thing you did wrong on loop, reminding you about that snotty Brooklyn twink you fell for over an omelet. The one that you envisioned with sitting on a porch, talking about your dreams and making small jokes, just to see his smile one more time. Suddenly, you have someone to remind you what it means to live. You're far too smart to actually think I’d want anyone else but you. Trying to stay humble?” He’s staring deeply into my eyes, dumbfounded. I step to the other side of the hallway, inches from his face. He wins. Checkmate.  
“What, didn’t you expect us to be on the same page?” I ask him. “I told you I was tired of running, and you’ve made me sprint a fucking marathon”

I crash our lips together. The sensation of his mouth on mine sends shivers through my veins. He’s stagnant at first, but his hands find my jawline while ages of grief release through a moan. His grip tightens as I pull him closer. 

_Please don’t let me go._

I’m gaining a certain high from the encounter. My skin feels sensitive to his slightest touch, our bodies roll against each other in sync to “I Feel Love” by Donna Summers faintly in the distance. Before long, his lips return home to my neck. I shiver as his tongue makes slow circles on my right side before he bruises my salty, pale skin. Snaking my arm underneath his tank top, I feel the sweat bead down his spine. My deep breaths in his ear make him smirk as he reaches the button of my shorts. Coming back to my senses, I stop his hand. He whimpers, confused at the scratch of the record. That’s a new one.

“Not here.” I breathe out, panting. I’m not letting him do things to me outside a club bathroom, I still have some dignity left. He nods.  
“Yeah, uh, that...makes sense.” He nervously laughs before grabbing my arm and yanking me through the hallway and sea of bodies. I’m bumping into dozens of people I don’t know as the sound fades around me, a psychedelic force taking over my body. On the way out, Monet and Vixen are standing at the bar with a couple. They spot the person dragging me and give me a wink. I know they knew he was here, and I hate that they know me so well. We rest against the same brick wall from earlier as I order an Uber. Tapping away on my phone, I notice him looking at me, smiling softly as his fingers dance over mine before they interlock. I’ve missed his tender playfulness.

It’s a quick ride to my apartment. A block in and he rests his head on my shoulder, hands never disconnecting. We stay silent, expecting to wake up from this twisted dream state. I give his hand a squeeze, assuring I’m here,  
and so is he, and we’ll be okay.

\----

Running up the stairs to my building, we’re barely in the elevator before he leeches onto me. My hands cup his cheeks as our tongues explore familiar territories. He smiles on my lips as he begins unbuttoning my shirt before the doors open onto my floor. I blindly lead him and unlock my door, unable to even stop for a breath. We’re just making up for lost time. _It’s only fair._

Both of our tops land on the floor while the door shuts. Shoes are off within seconds. It’s a miracle we contain ourselves to reach the bedroom. I sit on the bed as he stands over me, shirtless and gleaming under lamplight, staring with eyes that beg for love. Hands on his waist, I pull him closer as I christen his abdomen with my mouth. He runs fingers through my hair as I grace his erection with my palm, exhaling satisfaction while I pull his shorts and underwear down. I stroke his cock gently as my lips tease his head. The whimpers return from his mouth in a sweet symphony. I take more of him in my mouth with each motion, the control I have over him driving me crazy. He soon tenses, stopping me and pushing me onto my back. In a swift motion, he removes the rest of my clothes and straddles me, lips meeting mine so needily. I’m in no rush tonight, absorbing the moment. My thoughts this morning contradict my current actions, but in reality, I’ve wanted nothing more.

I turn us over, treasuring the sight before me. He’s calmly breathing, a slight tremble to his body. His thumb runs over my cheekbone before nestling at my chin, reaching up for a soft peck.

\----

We find ourselves entangled in bliss. Our bodies are slicked with sweat and fresh bruises, idolizing contact and reconciling missed natures. His legs rest around my waist like a puzzle as we fall into each other, apologizing, forgiving, caressing, welcoming touch, all through moans of pure euphoria. My arms begin to buckle as I finish, collapsing onto his chest. We’re breathless for ages, happily in each other’s embrace. Since we left the club, communication has been nonverbal. It seems we could say everything we needed without words.

Except for one thing.

I pull my head up, meeting his bloodshot, chocolate eyes. My hand runs through his hair as I kiss him slowly, his arms around my back. I look at him once more, tears welling my eyes before I finally tell him,

_“I love you.”_


	9. Heal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The relaxing day after chaos.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a nice, gentle chapter full of fluff before we wrap this all up. I can't believe this little story is almost over! Thank you so much for 1500 hits!
> 
> Songs so far:  
> 1\. Home- Daughter  
> 2\. Only- RY X  
> 3\. Waiting- Alice Boman  
> 4\. Delicate- Damien Rice  
> 5\. Seasonal- Orlando Weeks  
> 6\. Eden- NoMBe  
> 7\. These Days- Wet  
> 8\. Can't Control My Love- Total Giovanni  
> 9\. Heal- Tom Odell

He’s not saying anything back, for once he’s been quiet for an entire hour. I start to worry that I fucked up what just restarted, realizing going from “I can’t stand to look at you” to “I love you” might take some more time. His eyes radiate— full of relief and zeal— as if he’s trying to say it back and physically can’t, washing my anxiety away. He pulls me back onto his lips, hungrily and exhausted in a sign of gratitude. Neither of us have the energy for anything but caresses and soft hums into each others’ mouths before we fall asleep intertwined.

——

It’s 11:02am. I’m startled by my phone vibrating on the nightstand. In my normal routine of sneaking out of bed, I grab it, see it’s Katelyn, and head for the living room.

“Hey, Kate,” I say as I throw on a pair of sweatpants.  
“You have SO much explaining to do!” She yells into the phone. Snickering, I pull the phone away from my ear. Based on the tone, I’m guessing this involves the prior evening and a tipsy Monet.  
“And YOU don’t need to make me deaf!” I reply, “What’s up?”  
“What’s _up?_ What’s UP!? You’re going to ask me what’s up when I got a picture from Monet of you and Aqua playing tonsil hockey at a club last night!?” She sounds livid, but I can hear her cousin laughing in the background. At least someone is enjoying this as much as I am.  
“Listen, it was going to be my first priority when you came back to tell you everything. I just didn’t want to infringe upon your family time!”  
“This is WAY more important than my family right now!” I hear her cousin reply _“ouch”_ in the distance. “You kept this from me, your _best_ friend, for a YEAR!” She does have a point, but it’s not my fault she wasn’t observant.  
“It wasn’t meant to be personal! Vix found out on accident and couldn’t keep her mouth shut. We tried to hide it at all costs so we didn’t have everyone’s thoughts at our throats. I’m pretty sure Jordan is still in the dark about it, too,” I wasn’t trying to be a bad person, in fact, before last night I was ready to spill the joke of our attempted pairing over dinner when she came home. How was I supposed to know last night would happen?  
“Jordan has known since August! When you didn’t answer me the first time, I called him and, surprisingly, he was awake before two. He said he asked Gio why he’d been so quiet on tour, and he broke down on the flight back from the UK.” The last sentence leaves a bad taste in my mouth. I didn’t expect everything to be so hard for the both of us. We always resealed the crack in the facade, even holding hands a couple times to rile up fans. Either way, I’m not completely done messing with Katelyn.  
“Wow...he was up before two?” I ask.  
“DO NOT change the subject, Maxwell!”  
“Okay, okay, okay,” I sigh. “I’m _really_ sorry I didn’t tell you about any of it, Kate. I wasn’t thinking it would turn into all of this. I promise when you get home I’ll be completely transparent about everything. I’d tell you now, but I don’t know when he’s gonna wake up and I think he and I need to talk about some stuff, too.” She groans for a few seconds. It’s silent on the other line.  
“Just know that I’m really happy right now.” I’m smiling as I pick up his black hoodie by the doorway and hang it over a chair. It still smells like him. Her cousin replies with an _“aww”_ in the distance to make me giggle. Katelyn takes a while to respond.  
“You are so lucky I care about your happiness more than mine. If this didn’t work out and I knew sooner I’d be irate!”  
“Another reason I kept this from you!” Her hard-ass attitude finally breaks when she starts to laugh.  
“Awww I can’t believe my baby’s in looove!” she squeals.  
“Yeah,” is all I can really say after that. My face hurts from the grin I have walking aimlessly around my living room.  
“Well, as much as I’d enjoy more details, we’re about to head to brunch. I expect a good story when I get back tomorrow!” she tells me.  
“And you’ll get one, I promise!” We say our goodbyes before I catch up on notifications.

There’s a few from Monet:  
_I WAS SO DRUNK LAST NIGHT I SPILLED THE BEANS TO KATELYN_  
PLEASE DON’T KILL ME  
ALSO, YOU’RE WELCOME  
BE SAFE KIDS!

I roll my eyes, chuckling as I reply:  
“I hate and love you so much. Hope you were safe too :)”

To my surprise, even Jordan chimed in:  
_Gio gave you the up-and-down in Florida when you were walking to your room. Totally knew you were gonna fuck. Happy you both came to your senses ;)_

I laugh at all the _“????”_ and _“!!!!!”_ texts from Katelyn with the unflattering photo attached, as well as the three missed calls. After responding quickly to each, I head to the kitchen to make some coffee. 

Grabbing the filters out of the cupboard, I hear footsteps slowly creep out of my room. A sleepy, shirtless Giovanni stands in the doorway with messy hair and smudged eyebrows, rubbing his eyes.  
“Good morning,” I giggle. He responds with a slight grumble and pout. I’m scooping coffee into the filter when he comes up behind me and rubs my shoulders softly with his thumbs. His lips sprinkle kisses to my tattoo before nuzzling his chin in the space next to my neck. It takes a healthy amount of willpower not to melt into him. I can tell he’s still recovering from a hangover.  
“There’s some Advil on the top shelf in the bathroom,” I tell him, running my left hand over his knuckles, now resting on the counter in front of me.

 _“I love you too,”_ he says back, grainy and sweet.

It’s impossible to contain my smile. My right hand reaches up to scratch the back of his ear before I turn around to face him. Our smiles mirror each other, fingers grazing his neck hairs and hands embracing the dimples of my back. The delicate kiss we share almost tickles my lips before turning to something desperate. We separate, foreheads rest on each other as we find the right words.

“I’ve wanted to say that since June,” I breathe.  
“Me too,” he admits. “Even if it didn’t...seem like it.” He laughs awkwardly as he puts his hand over mine on his jaw. The innocent charm in his voice gives me butterflies.

We’ve been lost without each other. There’s a sense of safety and comfort in his arms I’ve never felt. Our moment of comfortable silence is ruined by his phone vibrating in his pocket.

“It’s Jordan,” he says.  
“You should probably take that,” I tell him. “He and Katelyn talked this morning.”  
“Oh, God,” he groans before picking up, sounding more awake than ever, “hi sweetie!”

He’s walking into the bedroom while I finish making coffee and pour two mugs, making his with a splash of milk and ungodly amount of sugar. I’m sitting on the couch, looking out at some birds flying past my window, still in a state of confusion from the last twelve hours. One second we’re screaming at each other, the next we’re drenched in sex and passion, devouring each second with our bodies. I don’t have much time to contemplate the future when Gio returns.  
“Yes, I’ll tell him. Okay, get something to eat before you go. Love you too. Bye.” He hangs up.  
“Jordan says he wants to see you when he comes back to New York.”  
“How’s he been?”  
“He’s doing better,” he sits down opposite me, fumbling with his mug. “I kinda miss him.”  
The rumors circled around the drag scene for months. I almost reached out to him when I first heard, but I couldn’t bring myself to it- digging up past pains in a time where I mostly forgot about it didn’t feel right. My selfishness still haunts me; the idea that we could’ve been better earlier than now doesn’t sit well. He’s avoiding eye contact, watching his coffee swirl around. I don’t say anything right away, knowing things are still sensitive. 

Placing my hand on his knee and lightly scratching, I focus on him. He gives a sympathetic smile before taking a sip.

“You’re both just trying to navigate everything right now,” I reassure him. “Everything will be okay.”  
“I know, it just feels weird,” he replies. “This is the longest we haven’t seen each other.”

Again, silence fills the emptiness. I remove my hand from his leg and inch my way closer to him, propping my legs up on the coffee table. He glimpses at me with mischief.

“What?”  
“I have a question,” he says. “Why were you, of _all_ people, at a club last night?”  
“You want the truth?” He nods. “Monet and Vixen were tired of seeing me pout about you on every tour, so they took me out because they knew you were there.” I see the gears shifting in his head.  
“THAT’S why Vix texted me about meeting up! I told her I was going downtown because my friends were trying to get me out of the house, then she said she got caught up in other plans.”  
“Pretty sure I was the other plans,” I laugh. “They were so proud of themselves when we left together.”  
“I need to give her a call later,” he shakes his head before downing the rest of his drink. Setting the mug on the table before us, he shifts to match my position, resting his head on my shoulder.  
“We have some great friends, don’t we?”  
“Sure do.” I wrap my left arm around him and kiss his temple.  
Quietly, I hear him say, “...sooo,” as he twiddles his thumbs.  
“Hmm?”  
“Are we gonna be... _official?_ ” he grins. _Such a dork._  
“I don’t think we have much choice, babes.”

\----

It’s been a lazy day, barely leaving the couch, darkness surrounding my apartment. We showered, I ordered Chinese at 2pm, now A Star is Born provides white noise as we distract each other elsewhere. He’s pretty eager to catch up where we left off, kissing any exposed skin as he lay atop me, fingers interlocked, rich murmurs filling the air. On a break, Gio rests on my chest, face illuminated by my laptop screen. I play with his hair watching his eyelids fight to stay open. He turns to me, chin on my sternum. I look at him tenderly, beaming. He returns the smile.

“What?” he asks.  
“I’m just really happy I found you last night,” I reply. Propping himself up on his arms on either side of me, we softly kiss once more, filled with a contentment I cannot explain. It’s as if we’ve been together all our lives.  
“Baby, when do I get to tell the world you’re mine?” he asks shyly. I swoon at the sound of that.  
“Let’s just do it now,” I suggest. “Before you fall asleep on me.”  
He giggles as he pulls out his phone and takes a very quick boomerang of us kissing, our faces almost unrecognizable and only in frame for a millisecond. He tags me with the caption _“whoops,”_ and shares it on his Instagram story before putting his phone on do not disturb and locking it.  
“I’d rather not deal with that mess right now,” he tells me before he catches my lips again.

_There can be nothing better than this._


	10. Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Max reflects on the past couple of months in his new relationship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well, here we are! It feels weird ending this story. I didn't expect this much foot traffic on something that was supposed to be a one-shot, but it definitely snowballed into something I'm eternally grateful for. Because of this fic, I've interacted with wonderful people. If you ever left a comment, messages or asks on tumblr, or just left kudos, I appreciate it so much. Thank you for everything xx
> 
> The final song playlist:  
> 1\. Home- Daughter  
> 2\. Only- RY X  
> 3\. Waiting- Alice Boman  
> 4\. Delicate- Damien Rice  
> 5\. Seasonal Hero- Orlando Weeks  
> 6\. Eden- NoMBe  
> 7\. These Days- Wet  
> 8\. Can't Control My Love- Total Giovanni  
> 9\. Heal- Tom Odell  
> 10\. hope is a dangerous thing for a woman like me to have- but i have it- Lana Del Rey
> 
> (btw, i might be working on something else, but you didn't hear that from me)

Walking through an empty Harlem feels melancholy- yellow street lights illuminate the ground as the sidewalk becomes darker from the rain starting to fall. The warm June air dances on my skin as a soft breeze catches and chills the water droplets hitting my arms. I’m alone as I was on the 3 train back from downtown, wandering back to my apartment.

Monet and I met for a quick catch-up over dinner and drinks, talking about our tours in Australia and Europe. She laughs telling me about everyone running after Gio when he arrived in Spain to discuss his Instagram post. I smile remembering the dozens of text messages I received from queens the morning after our reunion. Everyone was so happy we were happy, even girls I’ve barely talked to.

_“She wouldn’t shut up about you on tour,” Monet cackles into her drink. “I think Asia would’ve cut up one of her wigs if she told the story about the club one more time.”_

In just a couple of months, New York’s dynamic becomes different. When you’re never home, it’s weird walking down the street for coffee and not recognizing anyone on what was once a daily commute. Now half my life is spent on an airplane, meeting new people and touring new places, learning new cultures and making returning home that much more a chore. Maybe I’ve lost my purpose here- what felt like home is filled with half-assed family reunions with queens more interested in my career over actually talking to me before running off again. I’m starting to wonder if it’s the city around me, or if I’ve changed. Maybe I should be less cynical because life’s been treating me pretty well, but you can’t force a horse to drink. You can only hope he knows water is in front of him.

I close the door slowly. My wet shoes squeak against the hardwood as I slip them off and hang my keys and umbrella. For 2 am, I’m wide awake, giving up on any circadian rhythm balance I’ve attempted on my week off. The couch calls my name as I walk over and plop down on my phone. Reluctantly, I open Twitter, staring blindly as an influx of notifications pop up with mentions and DMs from fans. Every second, of every minute, of every hour, has become about my relationship. 

The majority- overwhelmingly positive to the point it’s scary. No one holds back. One message could be calling us the cutest couple ever, the next asking about us in bed. The same goes for the meet and greets. I guess I’m still trying to maneuver my private life open to the public. It’s strange. Tagged photos with the caption “Craquaria forever!! <3” forces a shiver down my spine. I’ve never liked the name, mostly because it started during an extremely unstable time in both our lives, but also I hate to label it through what the public sees. They only pay attention to Miz Cracker and Aquaria, never Max and Giovanni. Besides the point, I know they mean well, and I prefer it over the other group of people that want me dead for breathing the same air as my lover.

_They don’t even look happy together._

_I thought they hated each other. Everyone’s seen the finale video at this point. I’m sure it’s just for publicity._

And, my personal favorite,  
_Aquaria deserves better than you._

I’ve done a pretty good job of avoiding the negative comments, and Gio loves them as an excuse to clap back, so they normally don’t bother us. However, sometimes I can’t help it. Nights like these, the fixation arises. I know he loves me, but there’s always the little voice inside my head that tells me he could leave me at any minute. It causes me to write small poems for him to find in his luggage, hug him a bit tighter when we say goodbye at the airport, stay awake until 6 am on the phone while I’m on the other side of the world to hear him speak a little bit longer. I feel so desperate- as if I’m begging for his acceptance.

_Please don’t leave me._

And then I get to my hotel and see flowers on the table, the same message as always:  
_The world can only keep us apart for so long.  
-Pretty Boy_

And I know he’s not going anywhere.

I lock my phone and rest it on the coffee table, placing my laptop on my thighs, and open a window in Safari. My newest hobby for the last two weeks has been checking apartment listings on the Lower East Side. As fun as it’s been spending random weekends at each other’s places and seeing one another’s face more through a phone screen than in person, we’ve discussed moving in together. Paying separate rents makes no sense if any possible second could be spent together, and who knows? Maybe we’ll get to cuddle a couple more times a month. Considering we’re both stubborn about leaving our respected areas, it made the most sense for both of us to suffer and meet in the middle downtown. Funny thing is, all my home gigs are downtown, so I still win.

I’m scrolling through pictures and descriptions, all making me wince at the price, but drop my jaw at the aesthetics. Every place is beautiful, but one catches my eye: windows floor-to-ceiling in the living room attached to an open kitchen with granite countertops. There are two bedrooms, one for actual purpose and the other for drag. Bathrooms with wide mirrors and two sinks- all with a modern flare of white walls and slate gray features. It’s perfect. All I can imagine is snuggling on the couch in winter, watching god-awful Hallmark Christmas movies under a blanket. There’s enough room to light some candles without something catching on fire and share a pleasant aroma of pine. We accidentally fall asleep and wake up when it’s dark, a light snowfall making the Manhattan Bridge almost invisible across the river, the red flickering sign from the deli across the street sets the living room in pink hues. My baby is still asleep on me, stomach slowly rising and falling, head on my bare chest while I play with his hair.

I’m pulled out of my fantasy with the refrigerator door opening behind me. Embarrassed I didn’t even hear him come out of my bedroom, I see the person that keeps me coming back, my cornerstone, my everything.

 _Giovanni_ , wearing a baggy t-shirt and shorts better than anyone I know.

“When did you get back?” He asks me, walking over holding a water bottle.  
“About ten minutes ago,” I reply. He gives me a quick peck and kneels next to me, head propped up on my shoulder, still groggy from relearning Eastern Standard Time. He’d been sleeping since I left for dinner around 7.  
“Did you just wake up?”  
“Unfortunately,” he says, taking a quick sip of water. “I’ll probably be awake for a while now.”  
His hair is half standing up and eyes glossed over, scrutinizing my screen. If I’m being honest, nothing is more attractive than Gio when he first wakes up. Part of me wants to close the laptop and collapse on top of him on the floor.  
“Are you looking at more places?”  
“Yeah, I really like this one, and the price is less than what we both pay combined if you do the math.”  
He looks through the photos, giving me an affirming nod.  
“Oh yeah, we could definitely get a dog if we move there.” That’s his normal judgment scale for the apartments I show him.  
“Babe, we don’t have time to take care of a dog.”  
“Hannah could watch it.”  
“Hannah’s also never home to take care of a dog.”  
“What about Kizha?”  
“She’ll just want to keep the dog,” I laugh.  
He gives me the biggest puppy-dog eyes in a while, curling his bottom lip and batting his eyelashes.  
“Pweeease?” He asks me. It’s hard to say no, so I just giggle and kiss his temple.  
“Maybe.”

I bookmark the apartment, close the tab, and open Spotify. If we’re both going to be awake, we might as well enjoy it. Before I can even type anything in, Gio grabs my laptop and starts searching.  
“What are you doing?” I ask. He doesn’t respond, but stand up, place the laptop on the coffee table, and press play.

It takes me a second to recognize, then the apartment is filled with the sweet piano introduction of “Cheek to Cheek.” Louis’s raspy voice comes in as he reaches for my hand to lift me off the couch. I graciously accept, looking mildly confused.  
“What?”  
“I was just expecting Lady Gaga,” I tell him. He shakes his head.  
“I like it better slowed down.”

His hands snake around my waist as mine reach his shoulders. I look up and see my whole world: his chocolate eyes with a soft smile. Every time I see him, I forget what life was like without that view, completely entranced by his thumbs circling my lower back as he pulls me closer for a tender, longing kiss. I’m in paradise, any thoughts I had on my treck back escape me. Love cannot express what we have, for there aren’t words to describe this feeling. Maybe I should stay in this city a little bit longer, as long as I have him when I come home.

“You’re so special to me,” he whispers, peppering the side of my face with his lips. My eyes are still shut, fully leaning into him.

_“I love you too.”_

We sway back and forth in silence, heads resting on one another as we listen to the raindrops on the windowsill, moving to Ella’s delicate words:

_Heaven, I’m in heaven,_  
_And my heart beats so that I can hardly speak,_  
_And I seem to find the happiness I seek,_  
_When we’re out together, dancing cheek to cheek._

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all for reading! Feedback is always appreciated! You can find me @dr-dill on tumblr x


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